


unlike persephone though, he can leave if he wants to

by Recluse



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst!, Gen, M/M, makoto can't catch a break, the guy has got it so bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recluse/pseuds/Recluse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(But it hurts more to think, "Haruka doesn't love me.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	unlike persephone though, he can leave if he wants to

Haruka is his air, something to breathe, something he can't touch but wants, something he finds comfort in, a person he can't really remember being without.

Haruka is his anchor, his lifeline, his worry, his pride, Haruka is everything to him, in a way that doesn't ever seem real. He can't find the right words to describe the way Haruka is part of his life, the way Haruka is not exactly his whole life, but without him there, Makoto would find himself lost, drowning, taken by the dark edge of underwater, some place that he doesn't know, doesn't want to know.

Haruka is like the sun, like being able to breathe, the pulse of life that reminds Makoto that he lives and that there's something there for him, somewhere he needs to be. Where he can keep something safe, where he doesn't have to take care of anyone, but does because he wants to. Where he's needed because no one else, no one else can do what he does, where just a look at Haruka is enough.

It's unhealthy, really. He realizes how much he thinks about him, realizes how this isn't normal, but, Haruka is so much to him. Being near him is enough. A touch would kill him.

It's as if he's devoted his soul, and to be honest, he can't say he hasn't, when he thinks of every day, the loneliness that creeps up when Haruka isn't there, the way he wants to see him in the morning, bath or kitchen or halfway to school, the way he carefully controls their interaction, so that he never breaks comfortable, never puts pressure that would break them apart, when he thinks of those moments he thinks he's devoted his soul to making sure Haruka never leaves his side.

Haruka, Haruka, Haruka.

He knows that Haruka only considers him a friend, maybe one of his closest, and he knows that Haruka doesn't think about him like this, because Haruka really only loves swimming-ah, love isn't what he meant. It's not the same feeling he has, though, he supposes, it could be simplified that way, the swirls of color and emotion that happen when he can see Haru.

(But it hurts more to think, "Haruka doesn't love me.")

(He grapples against himself, sometimes, sees it for what it is, dependency, desperation, and then sometimes raw want, need, an evolution of feelings, from childhood kinship to desire, a thick and heavy lust that hazes him over. But not a lust for flesh, a lust for everything, his mind, his heart, his being, a lust to captivate Haru like he's captivated Makoto. Desperate need. Despairing want. Captivation, Makoto scares himself sometimes when he realizes that he's like the thing he fears, the thing that lurks in the water, drags people down-He wants to be that thing, sometimes, when he looks at Haruka, he wants to be that deep dark part of the ocean that drags him down and keeps him captive until he can't leave. The pomegranate of Hell, the seeds that kept Persephone down, even if only for a few months. It's enough, it's enough, it's ENOUGH, he has to tell himself those times, drowning in his own thoughts.)

Haruka, Haruka, "Haruka." 

He turns, Makoto freezes. Haru is still sleeping though, and he breathes, relieved.

Nagisa is on the other side, snoring quietly. Rei is curled nearby. Makoto stares, reaching his hand over, brushes a stray strand of hair out of Haruka's face, smiles softly.

_It's enough, remember, it's enough, remember, a single touch would kill you._


End file.
